


Star Trek: the extras

by blankzeroseven



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankzeroseven/pseuds/blankzeroseven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the lives of people seen on screen for only moments, attempting to explain their thoughts at the time we see them.</p>
<p>First up, Jackson the dock worker</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Note: author only knows the movies, and a little about Tarsus IV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jackson

Jackson knows of Jim Kirk, has done for many years.

He saw him first when he was young, blond hair matted and black eye blooming on his childish face. Frank wasn't good to him, the whole town knew. But then, Frank wasn't good to anyone, so that didn't surprise them much (why Winona married him, they'll never know)

He remembers walking past the boy as he sat with his head propped up on his knees, arms wrapped around them. He remembers baleful eyes peering up at him, daring him to say something. He doesn't, he keeps walking.

(Maybe he should have stopped?)

The next time, he was older. The wariness and distrust that he projected was much greater, making the thirteen year old seem more like thirty. He wonders what happened to change him so. No, not change, simply deepen a crack that had already existed (His mother's constant absence, Frank's constant displeasure). He remembers thinking he should say hello, offer a smile and welcome him home. But no, once again distrustful eyes lock on to him, analytical, distrustful, daring him to do him wrong (he wouldn't like the result). So he doesn't. He walks on by and continues to the store.

(Maybe he should have said something?)

He saw him a few weeks earlier too, come to think of it, passed out drunk on the front step of the town’s only bar. His eye once more purple, his lip sluggishly leaking blood onto his shirt. There's lipstick on his neck, and he wonders if the injuries came from a spurned boyfriend (or wanna-be boyfriend, trying to be chivalrous). He thinks about picking him up, helping him home. But he remembers the eyes. Jim Kirk doesn't want his help, Jim Kirk doesn't want anyone’s help.

(Maybe he should’ve carried the man home?)

He has just clocked in at work the final time he sees Jim Kirk in person. He rides in on a gorgeous looking motorbike (oh how he wants one like it). “Nice ride” he says, remembering the boy, the teen, the man (this wasn't what he meant the first thing he said to be). Kirk throws him the keys and tells him it's his now, and he wishes he had stopped, wishes he had talked to him, wishes he had helped him. The bike is expensive, and he has done nothing to earn it. Then he looks Kirk in the eyes. There is no dare there, no silent challenge. Just a quiet hope, anticipation, and maybe a little apprehension (everyone knows how George Kirk died. Everyone). He struts on to the shuttle and disappears from sight. 

(He feels guilty, so guilty, but Kirk seems to be alright)

Three years later, he hears about Vulcan, about Nero, about the hero that Jim has become. He takes great pleasure in telling his children (he's a father now, that's a thing) that their daddy’s motor bike was given to him by the great James T. Kirk. They don't believe him, but then, their daddy is only an engineer in Iowa, how would he know Mr. Captain Kirk? He thinks that if he saw Kirk now, he would say thank you. 

Maybe he could've helped Kirk, but then, would he be the same person? Probably. He knows he can't change his actions (or the lack of them, specifically) but he can help others. When he receives an award for his work in reducing family violence, he mails it to Kirk. It was thanks to him, anyway. 

(Maybe it worked out in the end after all)


	2. Titus

Titus was once a simple miner, living aboard the Narada and searching the cosmos for fuel to feed the Romulan empire. But then his planet died. Died as he watched, helpless. Split in two and roasted by a solar flare, nothing left behind. Home, his home (his family! Motherbrothersisterfatherlittlebabydaughtergonegonegone) no longer existed. 

And then there was lightning, in space (which is impossible, right?). The shock fades, leaving anger in its place. The federation had failed them, left their planet to burn (too slow, they were too slow). He glares out of the view screen, eyes locking on to the tiny vessel before them. The U.S.S. Kelvin is outmatched, destroyed before even half an hour could pass. Somehow, they are in the past, his home still lives. They could change everything! Make it better (save them, save them all!)

But no. 

Nero rages. He rages and rages. And then he plots. His mind is set on Vulcan, and making Spock (who failed to save them) lose all that he loves in penance. Six billion lives snuffed out for the sake of one man's vengeance. 

The anger within him demands it. His mind disagrees. Spock was only one person, who had tried (failed failed failed) to help them. The anomaly that caused the flare to spread faster than anticipated was hardly his fault (he was too slow). Was it really justifiable to punish an entire planet for Spock's failure to stop something that hadn't even occurred yet? 

No. Not at all.

But Nero has spoken, and Nero is their Captain. Vulcan will burn (sucked into a black hole, destroyed from within). They will find their Spock, and they will make him watch as he fails to save another planet (too far, it's too far). 

They will become murderers of an entire race (genocide, it’s genocide Nero).

Years pass (so many years, hurting, hunting, planning) and the time comes to exact their revenge. Nero orders him to collect the red matter. He looks up at his captain, searching for anything that might signal that no, no more, no further. No killing of innocents today (or ever). He sees only rage, tempered with smug satisfaction.

He follows his orders.

Vulcan is destroyed. Spock (both Spocks) watch. Romulus is still gone. His heart still aches for those he has lost. Nothing has changed.

Earth is next, and they are stopped.

He is glad. There is no part of him that wants to do this any longer, no part that feels vengeance is the cure for pain. As the black hole begins to destroy the ship from within (just like Vulcan, how fitting) he sits peacefully amid the chaos. This is his punishment, and he accepts it.

Titus was a simple miner, he dies a remorseful mass murderer.


	3. Johnny

Johnny is tired of feeling useless. Tired of people looking down on him. Tired of being disliked for petty reasons. Riverside is a small town, for all that it houses a significantly sized shuttle dock and shipyard, almost everyone knowing everyone else. And everyone knows him. He's not like Jim Kirk, who revels in the spotlight, who laughs on the face of scorn. He just wants people to like him.

But no one does.

He has no friends to speak of, his parents dote on his baby sister and elder brother, leaving him stuck in the affectionless middle ground. His brother greatly enjoys rubbing their parents seeming lack of care in his face. His sister is a naughty little toddler that just loves to blame things on him, their parents never believing that their darling little angel could be behind anything.   
So one day, he leaves.

He packs his bag, writes his note, ties on his shoes, and starts walking. Riverside only has one main road coming in and out, and he follows it out, hoping he would hit the big city eventually. No one would be able to find him there, one person among hundreds, thousands even. He would be just as insignificant as he felt. 

He hears a car approaching from behind, and sticks out his thumb, hoping for a lift. But no friendly adult drives this car. Instead, it’s Jim Kirk’s bleached blonde head that turns to shout his name, waving frantically all the while. He gapes after the speeding car, blinking in surprise (but not really, it is Jim). 

Sirens blare behind him, a police cruiser straining to catch the crazy barely-teen. Soon, all he can see is a dust cloud in the distance, headed for the old quarry. He stops walking and starts to think about Jim. The other boy has no family to care for him, his mother always on missions for starfleet, Frank having given up on connecting with the boy after one too many stunts. Everyone knew him as the troublemaker, the disappeared then back again Kirk, the son of a federation hero. 

He thinks about himself. He remembers the first few months after his baby sister came home from the hospital, how he could always get her to smile, or stop her tears. He remembers the day his brother scared off the older boy that had taken to bullying him at lunch times, sneering and stating that no one gets to make his brother sad but him. He remembers his mother, sitting next to his bed and keeping him company the winter he ran a fever for a week. He remembers his father, sneaking him the odd hot chocolate in bed with a whispered ‘don't tell mum’. 

He starts to walk again.

This time, he is walking home. No, not walking. His pace picks up and he runs. Not faster than he ever has before, that would be stupid and cliché, let alone the fact he has a heavy pack on his back. He wants to go home, where he does matter. Where his sister, for all that she gets him in trouble, comes to him when she's sad, waits. Where his brother, for all that he can be a jerk, won't let anyone else push his little brother around, wallows. For where his parents, who try so hard but have only so much time, are probably worried sick.

He kicks up dust with every step and bounds up the driveway. He throws the front door open and steps into the lounge to see his whole family, mother crying, father shocked, brother pale, sister confused. ‘We didn't know’ their faces say ‘we're sorry’ say their tears.

He smiles.

They do care. He's not so insignificant after all. Forget everyone else, his family loves him. 

That's all he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully, should the ideas keep coming, this might turn in to a series.


End file.
